


It All Begins With A Breath

by TheSilenceIsFalling



Series: Everything must always end, but that just paves the way for new beginnings [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AU - alternate universe, And maybe save the world while he's at it, Bilbo is reborn so that he can save the one he loves, F/M, Gen, M/M, More tags to be added as story continues, Time Travel, Twice-Born
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2018-11-01 02:57:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10912899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSilenceIsFalling/pseuds/TheSilenceIsFalling
Summary: Bilbo passed between one breath and the next.Which is why it is surprising that, after the last breath of air had left his body, he took a new breath in.Startled eyes snapped open, and a familiar ceiling greeted him.Perhaps he would find paradise after all.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Rewrite of the Hobbit, purely because I despised the ending and think that every single one of these characters deserve a happy ending.

They were dead.

All three of them. Gone. Gone like the passing of the seasons, like an early spring breeze, there for just a moment, and gone before you know it.

They had passed on to another life, their afterlife. Passed on between one painful heartbeat and the next. Thorin, my beloved, and Fili and Kili, two I counted as friends and family, were gone, and it was doubtful that I would ever see them again. I would never see them again.

“May Aulë keep them safe within his mountain halls until the world began anew, and those within his halls roamed the world once again,” I prayed, standing over them as I watched their people mourn.

They were dead, and I could do nothing but mourn their passing, like all those around me. I could do nothing.

Their funerals were quiet events. Every being in attendance was quiet, even Dain. We all paid our respects, even those that held no affection for the dwarrow I called friends. Bard returned the Arkenstone, placing it in one of Thorin’s hands, returning the heart of the mountain to it’s King. Even Thranduil, despite his hatred of Thorin and his kin, came and returned Orcrist, so that Thorin would be buried with it. A mighty sword for a mighty warrior.

All I could leave Thorin was an arrangement of bluebells, pink carnations, and heliotrope. I used flowers to speak words that I never had the courage to say aloud, and a promise to him as well.

For Fili and Kili, I created a bouquet of daisies and forget-me-nots, carefully weaved and hidden among their clothes.

It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough. They deserved more than I could ever give. They deserved to live, and that was certainly something that I could never give. 

**

The journey back to the Shire was a long one. Long, but uneventful by my standards. After all, I had traveled with thirteen dwarrow and one Istari. Nothing could be more eventful than that. Nothing would ever be more eventful than that.

Gandalf and I parted at the borders of the Shire. Gandalf would do whatever it is he needed, and I would return home, weighed down by my grief and sorrow, and all the treasure the remaining company had shoved into my arms before I could leave. They said it was only fair. I had done so much for them after all. They called me dwarrow-friend and told me that if I ever wish to visit Erebor again I need only send a letter ahead to announce my arrival.

I would never accept. I could never accept.

I had nodded and smiled, or at least, I tried to smile and told them that I would send a letter ahead.

They said I did so much for them, and yet I couldn’t do the one thing they, and I, needed me to do.

I couldn’t save their king and his heirs, their princes.

I didn’t deserve anything they gave to me.

Some of the company, mainly Dwalin, the Ri brothers, and Balin, thought that one or two of them should go with me, but I told them that they were needed in Erebor, that their people needed them. They didn’t like it, but I didn’t give them much of a choice. By poking at their sense of duty I managed to get them all to stay in the mountain.  


It would have made everything so much harder if they had come with me.

I made it home, well, I made it to Bag End, which hadn’t been home for a long time now, and I was gutted by what I saw. All of my belongings, the things I had gotten from my mother and father, were being sold off to the highest bidder. My heart sank and shriveled further. Why?

“What is the meaning of this?” I demanded, stalking up my front stairs and staring disapprovingly down at the Hobbits below me, all who appeared rather shame-faced.  
All but Lobelia Sackville-Baggins.

“You have been away for nearly two years, Bilbo Baggins. You must excuse me if I find it hard to believe that you were coming back.” Lobelia spat, her eyes lit with her fury. She was obviously not happy that I had returned, and that she wouldn’t be getting my spoons after all.

“Yes, well, I’m here now, Lobelia. And I can prove that I am in fact myself before any of you ask. Here,” I said, bringing the somehow still intact contract out of my pocket with a flourish. I looked at the Hobbit’s standing in my garden, glaring at them all. I knew every single one of them, and I would never forget this. A lot of them placed what they had bought in the auction down, giving me apologetic looks. Hamfast Gamgee looked especially ashamed.

“Master Bilbo, I’m so sorry. I truly thought you had perished,” Hamfast said, placing my gardening tools, the ones my father had made for my mother as a courting gift, down before me. “Truly, Master Bilbo, I am sorry.” I laid my hand on his shoulder and smiled softly.

“It’s alright Hamfast. No harm was done. I’m just glad you’re returning what is mine, unlike some honourless Hobbits.” I shot a glare at Lobelia and the rest of the Sackville-Baggins’. Lobelia sneered at me, thumping what she had bought down and storming off.

“Well, everything seems to be in order. Okay everyone, time to put Mister Bilbo’s stuff back. Quickly now. I’m sure he’s tired from his long journey,” the auctioneer said, a slight tone of mockery. I knew that most Hobbits would make me an outcast for this. A Hobbit many thought queer, or unusual, or unhobbity.

I was already considered weird by Hobbit standards, this was just the tipping point for many.

It took some time, but eventually, I had all of my possessions back, with the help of Hamfast. That Hobbit was above all else, and his wife, Bell, was as well. The Gamgee’s had always been good friends of mine, ever since I was a fauntling, but this proved to me what I already knew. They were a cut above the rest, that’s for sure.

That night I enjoyed a delicious meal prepared by Hamfast and his wife, Bell. Bell made the best apple pie you have ever tasted, and she made it for me that night. We three spent hours into the night talking. I told them of my adventures. A more Hobbit-friendly retelling, of course. No need to give them nightmares after all. The nightmares were better off with one Hobbit.

After I had finished my tale we all sat back, smoking our pipes and making smoke rings in the gloom.

“You loved him, didn’t you?” Bell questioned quietly, staring at me with sharp eyes. I froze, choking on the smoke in my throat. I took my pipe out of my mouth and coughed, trying to get rid of the burning feeling. Hamfast looked on, slightly amused, but also with a sharp look in his eyes. Damn these Hobbits and their emotional intelligence.

“Wh-what gave you that idea, Bell? And who’s him?” I asked back, attempting to veer away from the topic. I had no wish to talk about who my heart belonged to, and where I had left it, buried in a tomb far beneath the lonely mountain.

“You know who I speak of, Bilbo Baggins. Do not act obtuse. You loved him, didn’t you? The leader on your journey, Thorin Oakenshield.” Bell locked her eyes with mine, staring me down and pinning my denial on my tongue. She knew. She always knew. She could sniff out love and heartbreak like a wild boar sniffs out truffles. I swallowed, tearing my eyes from hers and nodded.

“Yes, I did. I loved Thorin Oakenshield.” Bell’s eyes softened as she stared at me. She could see past my blank face and my monotone voice. She could see how much I ached, how much I hurt.

She could see how much I longed for someone I could never have.

Both she and Hamfast stood, walking over to me and sandwiching me between them, offering me the emotional support I had desperately needed.

“I loved Thorin Oakenshield, and I will never love another,” I whispered, my voice trembling as I finally let myself cry for my lost beloved. He was gone, and there was nothing I could do.

I cried much that night, held between Hamfast and Bell as they comforted me.

Bell began the Hymn, singing the songs of Yavanna to ease my soul. Hamfast soon joined in, his deep tones merging with Bell’s higher voice perfectly.

I wept for everything that I had lost, for everyone I had lost, and I wept for how my heart ached and how my soul felt desolate. I wept until I could cry no more, the comforting voices of Bell and Hamfast soothing me into a dreamless sleep, a sleep filled with a painful longing that I hoped would dull as the years passed.

**

The years did in fact pass, albeit slowly and painfully. But then Frodo came into my life. Little Frodo, with his eyes full of wonder, and a grief that no child should ever have to know.

I took care of this child, of little Frodo, because I knew I was the only one that could. I was the only one that could understand his grief. Of course, many people lost their parents, but none lost them when they were quite so young. No other Hobbit had lost the people that were their world. Not like Frodo and I. Frodo’s parents had been good Hobbits. Primula was one of my relatives that had never looked at me like I was something stuck to the bottom of her foot. She had never treated me like an outcast, just because of my tendency to wander away from the Shire. And Drogo, well, Drogo was much the same as his wife. Open and loving, even to those that felt that they did not deserve such love.  


They were good Hobbits, and I was pained to learn of their deaths. I was even more pained to discover that they had left little Frodo Baggins behind, terrified that the next adult he came to love would disappear just like his parents had.

I watched this fauntling become an adult, someone that I would forever be proud of. I watched as he grew from a fearful and quiet fauntling into an adventurous tween. I watched as he befriended Gandalf, who still came by every now and then, to check up on me. I knew that he worried for me. I knew that he did not like it when I lived in Bag End by myself, and I knew how happy it made him that Frodo had come into my life, despite the horrible circumstances surrounding Frodo’s entrance into my life. I watched as that adventurous tween become and even more adventurous adult. I regaled him with tales of my adventures. I told him tales of beautiful Elven cities and of deep Dwarrowven halls. I told him the tale of a Hobbit falling for a dwarrow. I told Frodo many things, and I taught him many things.

He was my son in all but blood, and he was the only family, the only relative I could call family at least, I had left. And then I watched as that curious and adventurous adult, my dearest son, become weighed down and haunted by a ring and a destiny that never should have existed.

I cursed that damned ring, blaming it and its creator for every bad thing that had happened to Frodo. Blaming it for the way it changed me. The way it twisted me into a person who I couldn’t even recognize. What would Thorin say if he saw me now? Now I was the one sickened by gold-lust. I was the one lashing out and hurting others, all in the name of gold and the power it had over me.

Even now, with the ring destroyed and its power dispersed, I could still feel its pull, the urge to lash out and those around me.

Perhaps I was just getting old.

Now I sail west, to the Undying Lands. I realized, as soon as I stepped foot on the boat, that I would not make it. I would die in this boat, and I was okay with that.  


I knew there was a slim chance that I would see the company once I died. We go to different afterlives after all. But still I hoped, and I prayed, that somehow I would meet my friends and my beloved again.

“What do you think of, old friend?” I turned to look at Gandalf, my oldest friend if one did not count the Elves.

“I think of the past, Gandalf. Of all those that I have left behind, and of those that I shall never see again.”

“You think of him, don’t you?” I gave my friend a sad and lonely smile.

“Of course,” I whispered softly, my eyes turning back to the horizon, towards the Undying Lands. A place I would never see.

“When I brought you on that quest, I did not realize that I was setting you up for such heartbreak and sorrow. I wish I had never brought you along, Bilbo. You do not deserve the pain that you have suffered, the pain that I have caused.” I stared at the wizard, my eyes softening. I grabbed his hand, holding it as tightly as my brittle bones could until he looked at me, tears in his eyes.

“Gandalf, I thank Yavanna and all of the Valar every day for you sending me on that quest. I met some amazing and fantastic people on that journey, and while what happened pains me, it’s better to have lived and loved another with all of my heart and soul, than to have lived without experiencing that. The ending of our quest left much to be desired, but I am happy that I went through what I did. Thank you, Gandalf, for helping me become the best Hobbit I could be.” I watched as Gandalf struggled for words, his mouth opening and closing until it shut for the final time with a soft click. Gandalf nodded, smiling through his tears. I smiled back, because if I did not then I knew that I too would begin to cry, but not for the same reasons that Gandalf was.

Gandalf didn’t know, but this was my final goodbye to him. I would not make it to the Undying Lands, and I knew that I would never see my dear friend again.

My hardest goodbye was to Frodo. My dearest Frodo. The child of my heart, and the person who carried so much and gained so little for it. My little Frodo Baggins.  


“What are the Undying Lands like, Uncle?” Ah, there was the curiosity that even Sauron’s ring couldn’t destroy.

“I don’t know, my boy. They are paradise, apparently. A place where one can be happy and joyful. A place where all that you have done can be forgotten.” I replied, gazing at Frodo softly. He was so broken, my Frodo. He had seen things that no Hobbit, or any creature, should have, and yet he had survived, and come out relatively whole on the other end. He was a strong Hobbit, and despite my part that I played in the ring coming to him, and the destiny that came with it, I knew that he did not blame me for what had transpired. He still loved me, even after what I had caused.

He was a stronger creature than many.

“Paradise… will he be there, Uncle?” The question threw me, for despite no name being mentioned I knew exactly who Frodo spoke of. I swallowed thickly. First Gandalf, and now Frodo. Why must painful memories be brought up now?

“I.. I do not know, my lad. It is doubtful. He and his company went to Aulë’s halls, and I doubt that they would be present in the Undying Lands.” Oh, if only. If only I could see them again, if only I could see him again. Be still my aching heart, why must I think of this now? I knew that I would die, and now I would die with Thorin’s face clouding my mind's eye.

“It isn’t much of a paradise, then. I hope you get to see him again, Uncle. I know how you ache for him.” With those words, Frodo departed, no doubt to find Gandalf or Lord Elrond. Both had been kind to my nephew, and strong bonds of friendship and been created between the three.

I hoped that they would keep him company in the Undying Lands.

**

That night, an old and broken Hobbit passed away quietly, his mind remembering friends from long ago, and a love he could never forget.

He passed quietly, and no one was surprised when morning came. He had lived for so long, he had been through so many things, that his passing surprised no one.  


They mourned him. They laid him to rest in the Undying Lands, buried among a multitude of flowers and seeds. He would have wanted it this way. He would have wanted to be returned to the earth that Yavanna had raised him from.

He was buried with a single acorn and a shirt of mithril. No one would have any use for mithril in the Undying Lands, and the shirt had always belonged to Bilbo, no matter who he gifted it to.

No words were spoken, only Hymns were sung quietly to aid his soul in finding its way beyond.

In the distance, a rumbling voice was heard, and a song of long ago began. Only one recognized the tune for what it truly was, and he told no one of it. Only smiling and humming along to the barely heard song.

Perhaps Bilbo would find peace after all.

**

Bilbo passed between one breath and the next.

Which is why it is surprising that, after the last breath of air had left his body, he took a new breath in.

Startled eyes snapped open, and a familiar ceiling greeted him.

Perhaps he would find paradise after all.


	2. Chapter 1: Startling Realizations And Hurried Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A startling realization, and hurried preparations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I never expected to get the next chapter up so soon, and I never expected the response I got from all of you! Thank you for your support! I hope you enjoy this next chapter. There are no dwarrow appearing yet, and certainly no cunning wizards, but all is beginning and unfolding.

A slow breath in, and a slow breath out.

Wait, what? Breathing? Was that a thing you did in the afterlife? I thought those that were already dead had no need to breathe?

My eyes snapped open, and I was startled to see a familiar sight.

Why was I staring at the ceiling in my room at Bag End?

“What on Earth...?” I muttered, still staring at the ceiling. Had I entered Yavanna’s Garden? Was this my garden, my afterlife? I shifted, feeling my soft bed underneath me and the scratchy feeling of the sheets against my skin. This confused me even more. I hadn’t had scratchy sheets since… since before I went to Erebor. I looked at my hands, bringing them out from underneath the mysteriously scratchy sheets, and stared at them in wonder. They were no longer wrinkled and speckled with sunspots. Now the skin was young and taut, the hands I had before the journey to Erebor and all the scars that it gave me. I threw the sheets off, staring at myself in awe. I was young again! No more wrinkles and aching bones, no more canes to aid me in my attempts at walking, and no more signs of how hard my life had been.

“Why would my afterlife be before I met the one thing that truly made me happy?” I wondered aloud. Was my afterlife to be full of reminders of him, and restrictions that stopped me from seeing him? I shook my head. I had eternity to think about him, but right now I would explore my afterlife, especially now that I had discovered my new found youth.  


I sat up. Slowly looking around a room that had been changed completely once I had returned from Erebor. I had changed those curtains from pale green to Durin blue, and I had changed all of the furniture within my room and within my home to that made by the Dwarrow. While Hobbit made furniture had always been good, I found that I had a fondness for anything made by Dwarrow. I knew why, but it only estranged me more from my fellow Hobbit’s. A Hobbit of my social standing, associating himself with outsiders, particularly dwarrowven outsiders? Utterly shameful. But I did not care. Spending so long in the company of Dwarrow, I learned the difference between things simply being created to look pretty, things that were created to be practical, and things that were created to be both practical and pretty. I knew Dwarrow were the only ones to be able to accomplish this successfully, with Elves coming in a close second.

Most Hobbit furniture was created to look pretty, to increase your social standing within the circles of the Shire and Hobbiton, so it was no wonder that I preferred the far more practical Dwarrow made furniture.

Not only did it remind me of my old and dear friends, but Dwarrow furniture was incredibly comfortable, which my fellow Hobbits would never admit.  


I stared at my old room, still wondering why this, this of all things, was my afterlife, my paradise. Surely my paradise is me, beneath that mountain beside my beloved and among those that I call friend and family?

Apparently not.

“Maybe I did not deserve a happy ending after all. Perhaps, instead of paradise, I have been sent to the dark depths of my fear.”

“Oh don’t be silly. There’s no need to be so dramatic about it all.” A feminine voice interrupted, causing me to startle rather violently and fall out of my bed. A tinkling laugh followed me in my fall. I righted myself as quickly as I could and stared, dumbfounded, at what I saw. There was a female Hobbit, with skin darker than the darkest of stones and hair that shone like mithril, standing at the foot of my bed, a twinkle in her eye and an amused smirk on her face. Beside her, holding her hand tenderly, stood a dark dwarrrow with hair the colour of rust, and golden tattoos winding down his arms, across his face and neck, and undoubtedly down below his clothing. He too had a smile on his face, but this seemed to be aimed more towards the Hobbit beside him, and not me. I stared at the both of them, utterly perplexed. Who were they? And more importantly, what were they doing in my home?

“Oh Bilbo, you know who we are. Despite what you may think, you already know us.” I froze, giving the Hobbit a very startled look. The dwarrow laughed, a deep booming laugh that caused my heart to clench painfully. He sounded so much like Thorin…

I shook my thoughts off, returning my eyes to the two beings standing at the foot of my bed.

“He looks like a little rabbit, madtubirzul.” The dwarrow leaned down to whisper in the Hobbits ear, making her giggle and hush him.

“Do not compare one of my children to a rabbit. He is much fiercer than that.” I gasped quietly at her words, suddenly realizing who stood before me. I scrambled to my feet, nearly tripping in my rush, and bowed lowly.

“Lady Yavanna. Lord Aulë. Why have you come to stand before me? I did not realize that you greeted those that had departed from their lives.” The booming laugh sounded again, making me want to curl up into a ball and cry. It had been so long since I had heard a laugh like that, and it was not something that I had been prepared for.  


“Oh you silly little rabbit,” Lord Aulë said, smiling warmly at me, his eyes shining sympathetically. “You have not died, mim mizim.”

“Oh, Aulë! I wanted to be the one to tell him!” Lady Yavanna scowled at Lord Aulë, hitting him softly on his arm in retribution. He just smiled sweetly at her, capturing the hand that hit him and placing a sweet kiss upon her knuckles.

“I am sorry, madturbirzul, but I could not resist. Please, forgive me.” Another gentle kiss to her knuckles had Lady Yavanna sighing, amused, and attempting to hide her growing smile.  


“There is nothing to forgive, my dear.” She gave him a sweet kiss in return. All the while I stood there, mouth gaping open in shock. What did he mean that I haven’t died? I died! I felt the breath leave my lungs and my soul pass my lips, how could I have not died?

“Uh, excuse me my Lord, my Lady, but what do you mean I haven’t died? Am I not in my afterlife?” I questioned, my voice sounding shrill and strained. I could feel my heart thumping, which was another odd thing, and I could feel my body begin to shake. What in the world was going on?

“Oh, come now darling. Sit, sit, before you fall down. Oh, look at you! You’re shaking something terrible. My love should have broken that to you easier, but you know well the bluntness of dwarrow,” she said as she guided me gently to the chair beside my bed, turning to glare at the apologetic looking dwarrow. I nodded my head, still in shock, agreeing with her. Dwarrow truly were the bluntest creatures that I had ever met, with men coming in a close second. A question still danced around my mind though, and I was not to be distracted from it. Was I truly not dead?

“Is what Lord Aulë says true, my Lady? Am I truly not dead? How can that be? Why have I not continued onto your Garden, Lady Yavanna?” If I was not dead, then why was I in my prime once again? Why was I suddenly without the aches and problems that accompanied old age? And more importantly, where was I? If I was not in Yvanna’s Garden, then was I truly home, well, a place I called home long before the King under the Mountain came along?

“Yes, it is true,” murmured Lady Yavanna, brushing my hair from my face tenderly. “You will not move onto my Garden until you have done what you need to. You have been given a second chance, my child. The Valar watched you and your family’s struggles, both with the ring and those that should have been yours to love. Eru decided that you would be given a second chance, that all of Middle-Earth would be given a second chance. It took much convincing on mine and Aulë’s parts, but Eru could not refuse us once the voices of the rest of the Valar joined ours. You are Twice-Born, my child, and you will live again.”

I sat in stunned silence, Yavanna’s dark hands stroking my curls tenderly, soothing me. Aulë stepped closer, adding his comfort to Yavanna’s.

“You made my sons happy, Bilbo Baggins, and I would have that for them again. I know that this is quite shocking, but I and the rest of the Valar know that you can and will be able to do what you must. We trust you, child, and we will be there to aid you when you most need it.” I stared up at Yavanna and Aulë, eyes filling with tears. Was I being given a second chance? Would I see my dwarrow again? Would I see my company? Would I see Thorin again? I placed a hand over my mouth, unsure if I would sob or blurt out prayers of gratitude if I was to speak.

“You have been returned a year before the quest for Erebor begins, my child. In this year you must prepare however you see fit. Learn to fight, better than you did before. Learn the art of healing. Anything you think will aid you on your quest. And you must only ask us if you wish to know something.” I nodded slightly, eyes going distant as I thought over all that Yavanna and Aulë had said. I could only think of two questions that I wanted answers to.

“Is there a cure for gold-sickness?” I asked, lifting my head and staring at the two Valar. Both wore similar looks of sadness. It was Aulë that answered.

“No, little bunny, there is no cure for gold-sickness. I have tried many things to cure my children of that curse, but nothing has worked, and nothing will work. That is their flaw, and Eru will not allow me to take that flaw from them,” Aulë stated, regret lacing his tone. I nodded and smiled sadly. I had guessed that that would be the answer to that question. “But perhaps you may be able to figure out a way to snap my sons out of their state. I trust that you will be able to do so, little bunny.”

“Yes, I know that you will find a way to avoid what happened last time, my child.” I grinned, slightly bashful at the amount of trust that these two Valar were placing in me. I couldn’t, I wouldn’t, disappoint them.

I had one last question.

“Is there a way to shield people from the power of the ring?” This was something I needed to know, for my sake and for Frodo’s. If I was to be given a second chance, then there was no way I would let Frodo carry the burden of the ring a second time.

“Yes, there is a way to shield people from the powers of the ring, but it is a complicated task. You must weave a pouch out of white heather and stinging nettle, you must then bind the pouch with different colours of thread, each symbolizing one of the Valar. When you begin this task we will imbue the threads with our energy and our magic, and in doing so you will have created a pouch that can hold the ring and keep its powers at bay.” Hope bloomed brightly in my heart. There was a way to protect my friends, my family, from the thrall of that wretched ring! I stood up solemnly, gazing determinedly at Yavanna and Aulë.

“I will do everything in my power to ensure that the quest for Erebor is a success and that the One Ring will never see the light of day again, not until I cast it into the fiery pits of Mount Doom.” Both Yavanna and Aulë smiled proudly at me, their hands coming to rest on my shoulders.

“And we trust you to succeed, Bilbo Baggins. Now, we must leave you to prepare for your up and coming journey,” Yavanna bestowed a small kiss upon my forehead, making me blush from the very tips of my ears, right down to the very bottom of my toes. She laughed. “I have gifted you with my blessing, child. Should you have need of my aid, the animals and the very earth itself will do everything it can to keep you safe or aid you. Be safe, my child.”

Yavanna stepped away, waiting for her husband to join her. He faced me, looking me up and down and seemingly coming to a decision.

“You bring much joy to my wife, little bunny, and so I would grant you my blessing as well,” and then he too placed a kiss on my forehead, almost exactly where Yavanna had. I blushed a deeper shade of red. “You will always know where you are going, so long as you are connected to the earth and her stone, and you will have a strength far greater than any Hobbit has had before. May it help you in the times to come. I wish you luck, Bilbo Baggins.” And then Aulë too stepped away, placing is hand in Yavanna’s waiting one.

“Thank you for all that you have given me. I will do what I can to ensure that I succeed,” I bowed low to them, and smiled in their direction. “Thank you, for giving me a second chance.”

They both smiled, and as one they said, “You are strong, child. We know you will not fail. Goodbye, Bilbo Baggins. We will see you when your time has come.” And with that, they were gone, only the smell of an open fire and the earth left behind.

I sat down hard, my head reeling. I had a second chance. I was being given a second chance. I grinned, tears filling my eyes as I laughed joyfully.

“Oh, my beloved, I will see you soon,” I whispered, wiping the tears from my face. I shook myself, standing up and looking around myself. I had much to do, and only one short year to do it.

“I can do this,” I said quietly, repeating it until it became a mantra. “I can do this. I can do this. If I do this I will see Thorin again, and maybe, just maybe, I can tell him. And, maybe, this time we could be happy.

It was more than I could hope for.

It was more than I could ever hope for, and yet, like a flower blooming after a long winter, my hope grew and grew until it resembled an old oak tree, rather than a flower.

“I’m coming, my beloved. Just hold on. I will give you back your home.” I vowed. Now, time to get down to business. I had many things to do, and such a short amount of time to do it. What comes first?

**

As it turns out, first breakfast was what came first. After a quick and relatively small meal, I set about making a list of everything that I would need to do before my year was up. Not only did I need to prepare for the journey itself, but I had to prepare for after it as well. I would be helping restore Erebor to its former glory, so I would need to organize farmers and land healers from Hobbiton to travel up to Erebor. I knew that some would come. Hobbiton was becoming overcrowded, and there weren't enough jobs to go around to everyone. Not only would I be restoring Erebor to its former glory, but I would also be tossing that damned ring back into the pits it was forged from. That would take far more planning.

I would also need to seek out rangers, or even elves, to train me to fight. I would not let my inability to fight hinder the Company anymore. I would not be dead weight. I would also need to learn how to heal properly. Having Oin be the only healer in the group was not wise, and I knew that he could always do with some more help in that department. And I knew exactly who to go to for training in the healing arts.

**

Adamanta Chubb-Took was an old Hobbit. Maybe not as old as many would expect, given how much she complained about her aches and her bones, but she was old nonetheless, and she had seen many things, including young Hobbits that were too much like their mother.

Maybe that’s why it didn’t surprise her all that much when Bilbo Baggins asked if she could teach him the healing arts.

When he requested this of her she stared at him for quite a while, sizing him up and looking for something that she could not name. She knew that something had changed within Bilbo. His eyes had become… older, and he seemed more like his old self, like the Hobbit he was before the Fell Winter and the pain it brought to all Hobbiton.

She realized that he had grown. He had grown more than she had ever expected.

Maybe that was why she agreed to teach him the healing arts, and maybe it was the thought of how proud Belladonna would be of her son that pushed her into making sure that her grandson would become the best damn healer he could be.

She realized that maybe Belladonna hadn’t died completely all those years ago. She seemed to have found new life and continued to live on in her son and in his spirit. And maybe, just maybe, Bilbo would become a Hobbit that all of Hobbiton would be proud to call one of their own.

**

Rangers usually ignored Hobbits. They were gentle creatures, childlike in a way, and they never made themselves out to be a threat. Not only were they pacifists, but they were mainly farmers and land workers, as well as those with amazing healing abilities.

Despite all of that, Dorian was still wary of the Hobbit called Bilbo Baggins. This Hobbit was… different. He carried a strength that he shared with no other Hobbit, and his eyes seemed older than even the Thain of the Shire. This Hobbit was an old soul in a very young body, and he was determined to learn from the rangers.

Perhaps it was wrong of him, to arm such a small and delicate creature, but Dorian had never been able to deny a Hobbit of their desires, especially not one that held such an air about them. So he taught Bilbo how to use a bow and how to fight with a sword. He taught Bilbo to be quick and agile, a moving shadow. Dorian taught him to use anything he had at his disposal to down his enemies, even things that many a ranger would see as dishonorable. When one was the size of a Hobbit, they needed all the advantages and surprises they could get, and so he taught him how to use poisons, and how to coat the weapons he used in them.

Dorian may have been hesitant about arming the Hobbit, but he would not let the Hobbit be without a way to protect himself.

Over the course of Bilbo’s training, Dorian grew rather fond of him, so when he was finally deemed to have an acceptable level of protection, Dorian gifted Bilbo with his own set of daggers and throwing knives, all beautifully crafted and made just for Bilbo. He also gifted him with his own bow and quiver, but when he tried to get a short sword created for the Hobbit Bilbo declined.

“I know in my heart that I will find a suitable blade for myself in the future, so do not have anything forged especially for me, my friend.” Despite Bilbo’s plea, Dorian still gifted him with an old, but well cared for, short sword.

“I know you say that you will find a blade suitable for you in the future, but until then let this blade protect you when I cannot.” It was with a teary smile that the Hobbit had accepted, and for once he showed his age.

“Thank you, my friend. I am so grateful for all you have done for me.” A happy face and tearful eyes looked up at Dorian, causing his heart to squeeze painfully. Dorian neve wanted to see this small and kind creature hurt.

“Think nothing of it, my small friend.”

Dorian vowed to never let his small friend come to any harm, no matter if it cost him his life.

**

It was not often that Bilbo Baggins would seek out the company of the Gamgee’s. Yes, they were certainly good friends, but it was always either Bell or Hamfast that would invite Bilbo to tea, or ask to spend a day in the garden. Both Bell and Hamfast knew why it was like this. Bilbo had no wish to get close to others, just in case, they left him alone again.  
It was a sad existence, but both Bell and Hamfast knew not to push it.

That’s why it was so surprising when Bilbo Baggins rang their doorbell and asked if he could stay for tea so that they could discuss some things. Had she ever expected Bilbo Baggins to ask her and her husband about land healing and proper farming, not just the veggie patch he had out back? Well, no, she had never expected this, but that didn’t mean she didn’t welcome it.

Something in Bilbo had changed, or maybe it was just Bilbo himself that had changed. He seemed more like himself than he had in a very long time. Bell welcomed the change, and Hamfast as glad to have his old friend back once again.

Bilbo had changed, and the Gamgee’s couldn’t find it in themselves to care. Bilbo Baggins was happy again, and happy he would stay.

And if someone came along to ruin that for him? Well, they would meet the wrong end of Bell’s frying pan, that’s for sure.

**

He had a year. A year of long lessons in healing, and even longer lessons in fighting. He enjoyed the conversations about healing the land and farming the most. While he was a warrior now, he still is, and forever would be a Hobbit. And that meant being connected to nature and the land.

He had a year, and by the time that year was up, he was ready.

No dragon, ring or dark lord would stop him from accomplishing his goal.

And now he sits on the bench outside his smial, blowing smoke rings and watching them fade away, waiting for the sound of a walking stick and the twinkling eyes of an old friend.


	3. Chapter 2: Cooking With Dwarrow And Moments Of Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cooking with Dwarrow is always fun, but the panic that knocks bring can be an individuals downfall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I was having some very difficult times during the past few months, but I'm back now, and I hope that I will have a regular update schedule so that none of you have to wait so long for the next chapter.

Gandalf always arrived on time.

I had closed my eyes for all but a second when I felt it, the wisp of smoke flew through one of my own smoke rings and landed on my face, exploding into nothing. I grinned. He was here.

“Well good morning my dear fellow! My, what a wonderful smoke trick! You must show me how you do it!” I exclaimed as I opened my eyes, barely keeping myself from jumping up and giving my old friend a very long hug. It had only been a year, but I had missed Gandalf rather terribly. He had always been good for a trick or two, especially when it made someone laugh, especially children. And he had always cared for me and my family with his whole heart, even if that was hard to see sometimes.

I saw Gandalf pause for a moment, my enthusiastic greeting surprising him somewhat, before he spoke. He was obviously expecting a more broken hobbit to be sitting in my place. The news of my endeavours had obviously not reached his wide ears.

“And what do you mean by that? Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?” Gandalf questioned, a small smile hiding behind his beard. After spending so much time with him I learnt to recognise his moods and his facial expressions rather expertly, and I could see that Gandalf was amused. I was just happy to see my old friend again, not that he knew me as well as he once did.

“Why all of them at once, of course! The sun is shining and the grass is green, so why wouldn’t this be a good morning to wish on someone, and a morning to be good on? What brings you to the Shire? Please, won’t you join me for a pipe of tobacco on this fine day?” I replied cheerfully, blowing a smoke ring that flew away over the top of Bag End, watching Gandalf. I could tell that he was confused, and perhaps a bit bemused, but he wasn’t suspicious. Yet. Which was good. I didn’t need someone as powerful as Gandalf being suspicious of me and my motivations so near to the start. It would ruin everything.

“Since you offered so nicely, I would be quite happy to join you, Master Hobbit.” Gandalf conceded after thinking about it for a moment  
Soon Gandalf was sitting beside me, and his comforting warmth relaxed me somewhat. I really had missed him. It took almost everything in me to stop myself from saying his name before he gave it to me. I wanted nothing more than to spill all that had happened, all that might happen, and all that I wished to change.

Gandalf hadn’t been back to the Shire in years however, and it would look odd if a Hobbit remembered him after all these years, even one that was the son of Belladonna Took. Especially because I had been so young when Gandalf had been here last.

We spoke of everything, and of nothing. Of how the harvest had gone this year and how it was expected to go next season, of who had married recently and who had died. It was… nice to talk to someone who didn’t look at me with suspicion and jealousy.

“And who are you, kind sir? We have been talking for hours now, and yet neither of us thought to introduce ourselves! I am Bilbo Baggins of Bag End. It is a pleasure to talk with you on this fine day!” I said, once there was a lull in the conversation. I had finished my pipe and was now staring out over the Shire, watching Hobbits going about their daily routines. I had broken my routine over a year ago now, vowing to change the outcome of the destiny of the world, the destiny of those who I loved and cherished. And soon my quest would begin. It’s a good thing that I’m ready for it, isn’t it?

“I am Gandalf, Gandalf the Grey. Yes, it certainly has been a pleasure. Hobbits are not usually so kind to outsiders.” He said, looking quite pleased at how the conversation had gone. I nodded, agreeing. Many Hobbits were wary of outsiders, but I was the son of a Took and a Baggins, and I had never adhered to the norms of society, especially not now that I knew what was to happen, what was to come.

“Yes, I know. It’s quite sad, if I’m honest. Hobbits who do not like outsiders miss out on so many things, just because of their silly suspicion! Why, they could have met a best friend in a Man, or in a Dwarrow, or even an Elf! But because they never give outsiders a chance they miss that opportunity.” I shook my head sadly, tapping my pipe on the bench to get rid of any remnants of tobacco that might still be in the bowl. I didn’t see Gandalf’s considering look as he stared down at me, thoughts racing behind his old eyes.

“Yes, it is sad. But you are not like them, Bilbo Baggins. No, you are much like your mother. I’m sure she would be quite proud of you for being so open minded.” Gandalf said casually, standing up and stretching. I froze. Did he really and truly think that?

“You… knew my mother?” I spoke slowly, willing my voice not to tremble. I knew that Gandalf had been a good friend to my mother, he had told me so the first time around after all, and yet I still wasn’t prepared for it, even now. Especially after he had told me that he thought that she would be proud of me. Would she? I had done so many things, caused so many things… The thought of her being proud of me was a strange feeling, but it brought a warmth to my heart that I hadn’t felt since Thorin had died.

“Oh yes. We were good friends in her youth, and even after she had married Bungo. I was there at their wedding you know. A wonderful event. I was the one to take her on the many adventures she had, not that many of the Hobbits appreciated my actions. We had many good times, your mother and I. It was a sad when I learnt of her passing,” a warm hand landed on my shoulder, causing me to look up at Gandalf, who was now standing in front of me. I hadn’t even noticed him standing. “That was one of the reasons I came here for. Your mother was such a wonderful travelling companion, and I was wondering if I could convince you to come on an adventure with me, like you did when you were a fauntling. Although I don’t you remember those adventures of ours.”

“An adventure? You would be hard-pressed to find someone willing to go on an adventure in the Shire,” I said, pausing for a moment, making it seem like I was thinking about his offer very carefully. In reality I already knew what my answer would be, but I had to keep up appearances and not just jump up and scream that, yes! I would like to go on an adventure with him! “It’s a good thing I’m not like most Hobbits then, eh? Mister Gandalf, it would be my pleasure to join you on an adventure.” Gandalf’s grin was so bright, and I couldn’t help but grin back. It was happening. I was finally going to see them all again.

“Excellent! Thank you, Bilbo Baggins! You can expect the group of us to arrive within the week. I suggest stocking up your pantry. You will have quite the crowd in your lovely little smial soon.” I could see the happiness lighting up Gandalf, making him seem brighter and younger. I frowned when I noticed that he had banged my door with his staff as he turned, which I thought impossible considering how far away the door was from the bench but he still managed it, and that he was leaving.

“Hang on! Gandalf! How big is this group going to be? Who are they? Are they to join us on our adventure?” I called out as Gandalf wandered down my path to the gate. I heard him laugh as he walked through the gate before he turned to look back at me.

“A company of thirteen will be coming your way, Bilbo. Yes, they certainly will be joining us on our adventure. I suggest having a lot of meats and sweets stocked up for their arrival. Goodbye, Bilbo Baggins! I will see you within a week. Take care!” and with that Gandalf turned and made his way down the path, a jolly tune being whistled as he made his way through the Shire.

When I couldn’t see him or his pointy hat anymore I grinned, brighter and happier than ever before. Everything I had been preparing for was beginning, and I was excited. And so terribly anxious. I would see my friends again, and I would see my beloved again.

I couldn’t wait.

And as I opened my door I noticed an odd symbol on my door, and I smirked. So that’s what they meant last time when they said that there had been a marker that showed that I was the Hobbit for the job. I traced it with my finger, the excitement mounting within me. I knew that my Dwarrow wouldn’t be here for at least another four days, but they were coming. They were coming and I would see them home, even if it meant my death.

I will see them survive.

**

It didn’t take me long to stock up on enough food to feed a few Hobbit families for a good few weeks, so plenty for a company of thirteen Dwarrow. I made sure to get more beer, ale and wine as well. I didn’t want to run out part way through the night like I had last time. I got many odd looks from my fellow Hobbits, because this was enough food for a small party, and yet none of them had been invited. I do so enjoy confusing them all.

As I walked up Bagshot Row, on my way back from getting the last of my supplies, I noticed a figure sitting not that far from my gate, watching it and my smial. I frowned. Who was it? I noticed the dark green hood and the war hammer, causing my eyes to widen, my heart pumping excitedly. Had Dwalin sat outside my smial before? And if he had, why? Was he trying to find out what kind of a Hobbit I was, how effective and helpful I would be on the journey west? Had he done this before? There were so many questions, but no answers to be had.

I shook off my thoughts, no time to dally. I had a Dwarrow to entertain, and confuse.

“Hello there sir! Why are you sitting on the ground? Would you not prefer to sit on a bench, or perhaps an armchair? It is a nice day, but not nice enough to sit on the ground like that! Ah! I know, follow me sir! I will treat you to some tea and sweets. Come along now.” I didn’t give Dwalin a chance to reply, I just ushered him up and towards Bag End, trying not to laugh at the bewildered look on his face. I knew that my skittish attitude before had not endeared myself to Dwalin, and I was determined to change his opinion of me from the start. He was a good ally, and a brilliant teacher. I would need him to trust me, and I wanted him to be a friend to me again.

“Ah, no, that’s quite alright Master Hobbit. No need ta open up ya home ta me. No one else has, and I ain’t expectin’ you to.” Dwalin slowed and started to turn, as if to walk around me and back down my path. I shook my head stubbornly and walked around Dwalin to open up my door, grabbing his arm and dragging him inside.

“Nonsense. Everyone else is just too suspicious and rude. Why, you’d think they’d never been taught manners, to let a traveller just sit on the dusty road like that! Well, I won’t have it. Come in, come in! I have plenty of afternoon tea for the both of us.” I ranted, turning to make sure that Dwalin actually entered my home and didn’t just turn and leave like he probably wanted to do. I watched as he cautiously entered my home, his eyes roaming everywhere. He wiped his boots before taking them off and placing them where I had pointed, and then hanging up his cloak on the rack I had put there earlier. At least he was much more polite about his entrance this time around.

“Well, thank you, Master Hobbit. I am Dwalin, son of Fundin. At ya service,” he bowed low, looking slightly uncomfortable. It was honestly pretty amusing that I had managed to catch Dwalin off guard, and I was having a hard time trying not to laugh. “Uh, where do I put my weapons? I’m sure ya wouldn’t like ‘em in a pile on the floor or leant up against the wall.”

“Oh! Of course. Bilbo Baggins, son of Belladonna and Bungo, at your service.” I bowed back before hurrying to a cupboard and dragging out an empty chest. I placed it near the front door and huffed slightly.

“There! Just put your weapons in there and then come meet me in the kitchen, which is just through that doorway.” I said, gesturing to a door to the left, before I walked through the door ahead of him. I heard Dwalin’s heavy steps follow me, making me smile. It all started now.

I could barely contain my excitement.

“Please sit, Master Dwalin. Would you like anything to drink? Rose tea perhaps? And a seed cake or two?” Dwalin was still giving me a wary look, but I could tell he was tempted by my offer. Rose tea and seed cakes were his favourite after all.

“Well, if ya sure it won’t be a bother…“ he said as he looked around my kitchen curiously, not yet sitting down.

“Not at all, Master Dwalin! I have plenty to share. Let me just boil the kettle and grab the cakes. Please make yourself at home. Oh, and you must stay for dinner! Do you have any preferences? Oh, just come with me to the pantry and we can figure it out. Come along, Master Dwalin!” he looked at me, utterly confused, as I puttered around the kitchen preparing the tea. It was so hilarious. I really was struggling to contain my giggles at this point. I had definitely made a different impression this time around, and hopefully it was a good one.

“Wait, hold on, why would I be stayin’ for dinner? Shouldn’t ya kick me out so I can find an inn or somethin’ ta stay at?” Now I was the one looking confused. Why was he being so insistent? Were Dwarrow not used to hospitality? How absurd!

“Well, no. I wouldn’t think so. I assumed that you were a part of the company that Gandalf had spoken to me about. Were you not sitting outside my home because you had seen the mark on my door? Or were you just resting? My apologies,” I bowed, keeping my eyes on Dwalin. I watched as he got flustered and embarrassed, which is not a look that Dwalin wore often.

“Uh, ya knew about the mark?” I could tell that I had gotten the upper hand on Dwalin, for once. I’m sure Gandalf had told him about the mark, and had warned him to be cautious about mentioning it, just in case I didn’t know about it. It was a nice feeling, and one I was sure to get used to.

“Well of course I did! I just had that door painted and then Gandalf had the nerve to put that mark there. He could have just asked, like a normal person. But, yes, I did know about the mark.” I walked towards the pantry, grabbing the box of loose leaf rose tea as I walked past it. Looking through the contents of my pantry, I wondered if now would be a good time to start gathering some of the meats that were in cold storage. I could always slow roast some of that lamb…

“Ah, right, okay. So, ya know about the company then? And what the quest is?” He asked, his embarrassment being hidden behind his tough dwarrow mask. I hummed distractedly, gathering the seed cakes and handing them to Dwalin.

“Yes, I do know about the company. Not who is a part of the company, but I know of the company. And no, I don’t know what the quest is. Gandalf never told me, and he left before I could get it out of him, the tricky bastard. He just wants me to die of curiosity.” I grumbled, herding Dwalin out of the pantry and back into the kitchen.  
“Maybe he does.” Dwalin said, looking amused at my grumblings. I just grinned at him.

“It honestly wouldn’t surprise me. He loves making others guess what’s going on in that big head of his. Now, maybe you could help me? I have a lot of food ready for dinner, but I don’t know what everyone likes. Perhaps you could help me plan it all out? I assume you know everyone that’s coming, that’s why I’m asking.” I knew that including Dwalin in the cooking and preparing process would make it seem less suspicious that I knew what everyone’s favourite foods were. And by including Dwalin I would, hopefully, endear myself to him.

“You would open ya house to thirteen Dwarrow and cook for ‘em? Do you know how much Dwarrow eat? I don’t reckon you’ll have enough.” Dwalin commented, looking at me disbelievingly. I just smirked.

“Master Dwalin, you have no idea how much food a hobbit can and will eat. Just give me a list of what everyone likes and I’ll start to get it ready.” I said, smiling as Dwalin shrugged and started listing off what everyone would probably like to eat when they arrived.

For the rest of that afternoon Dwalin and I prepared and began cooking food for the hoard that would soon descend on my humble abode.

It had only just started to get dark when there came a knock at my door. Both Dwalin and I froze, covered in flour. I dusted my hands off on my apron and started walking towards the front door, gesturing for Dwalin to continue cooking. The knock came again, along with the ringing of my doorbell.

“Coming! Hold on a moment please!” I said, frantically thinking back to that time long ago when this had all happened. Who was coming next? The scarlet hood and an old face greeted me as I opened my door, and suddenly I remembered. Balin.

“Balin, son of Fundin. At your service!” A bow accompanied his words, making me smile.

“Greetings, Balin! I am Bilbo, son of Belladonna and Bungo. At your service,” I bowed back, showering the mat in front of the door in flour. I laughed and stood up straight, seeing the amused expression on Balin’s face. “My apologies! Dwalin and I were preparing the food for yours and the company’s arrival. I had not anticipated it to be so messy!” Balin laughed, a full-bellied laugh that drew Dwalin from the kitchen.

“Brother! It’s certainly unusual to hear that you’re cooking!” Cried Balin, looking at his brother with happiness. I smiled and slowly slipped away as the two brothers greeted each other with their customary head-butt. I knew that they had not seen each other for a very long time, so I was more than happy to let them have their moment. It also allowed me time to compose myself. I had forgotten how emotional I could be, especially when it came to my dwarrow. Seeing the two of them together, happy and without the grief that clouded their eyes, had caused me to remember how dear they all were, and still are, to me. I knew that seeing them all again, alive and well, would be hard, but I hadn’t realised that it would be this hard.

“Come on Bilbo, keep it together. You have eleven more to go.” I whispered, putting the last batch of cakes into the oven. I just had to distract myself now. I could make it until Thorin gets here. Then I could hide out in my room for a while and cry. And I could, possibly, give Thorin something that I had never had the chance to give to him before. I’m sure Gandalf would be disapproving as he would undoubtedly know what significance the gesture held to hobbits, but it wasn’t up to Gandalf. I was a grown Hobbit, and I could do what I wanted.

I was startled out of my thoughts as the two dwarrow lumbered into the room, their faces lit up happily. It was so nice to see them happy again.

“So I hear from my brother that you’ve provided him with some very kind and generous hospitality. For that I thank you. It is not often that someone, anyone, would be that kind to a rough looking dwarrow.” Balin said as he sat, happily looking at the spread of cakes and sweets that now littered the kitchen table. It was not a well-kept secret that Balin had a bit of a sweet tooth, and I was more than happy to cater to it.

“Oh,” I said, startled for a second. I hadn’t expected him to thank me for doing something that most, if not all, hobbits should do. “No, it’s quite alright! There’s no need to thank me. I invited you all to my home, and therefore it is my duty, as the host, to provide you with food and refreshments. Speaking of, would you like something to drink? And please, help yourself to some of the cakes. I hear that seed cakes are your favourite.” 

“I can’t believe you still remember that, brother. Ah, yes actually. Could I have some ale please? That would be lovely.” Balin laughed and looked at Dwalin, a pleased smile on his face. Dwalin just rolled his eyes.

“Of course I remember. How often did ya’ complain ‘bout not having had my seed-cakes for so long the last time we were together? It’s hard ta’ forget.” Dwalin and Balin continued their playful bickering, making me smile as I walked down to the cellar to get Balin his ale. I had missed them, and their brotherly affection.

I knew that I would have to bring a few barrels of ale and beer up at some point, but I would wait until a few others had arrived. They could help me lug them all up then. I would also most likely need to move everybody out of my smial and into the garden, because there was far more room there. I would have to get the others to help me bring the tables out as well. As I handed Balin his ale and checked on the cakes twin knocks sounded throughout my smial, and immediately I knew who it was. My boys!

“Coming! Please wait a moment!” I called out as I gestured for Dwalin and Balin to stay where they were. This was my smial after all, and I couldn’t have strangers opening the door for me. I opened the door and suddenly they were there, in their blue hoods and their cheeky grins. My boys were here. They were alive.

“Fili and Kili, sons of Dis! At your service,” Both of them bowed, sweeping the hoods off of their heads with a flourish. I grinned. “I see that Balin and Dwalin are already here. Time to join the throng!” Kili said, starting to walk in the direction of the kitchen.

“Greetings! I am Bilbo, son of Belladonna. Please, come in! Hoods and cloaks over there please. And wipe your feet on the mat! Not the glory box! Thank you. Weapons go in this trunk,” I said, gesturing to where they needed to place their stuff. Fili looked very sheepish as he lifted his foot away from the glory box that sat in the hallway. After they had put their stuff down and looked like they would walk towards the kitchen I stopped them. “Actually, before you sit down, could I get you to help me? Because of how many of you there are going to be I want to set up a table outside, so that we all have more space to eat. The table is a bit too heavy for me to carry on my own.” I gestured to the door to the cellar, where I kept all my spare furniture.

“Oh! Yeah of course! Come on Kili, time to help the hobbit move the table!” Fili said, herding his little brother towards the cellar. I smiled. I may not have necessarily needed both of them to help me, but I wasn’t going to waste my time with any of them. Not this time around.

“Thank you! I appreciate your help.” I called out as I followed them into the cellar. “Master Dwalin, could you keep an eye on the cakes please? And if you and Balin would like, could you start bringing the barrels of ale and beer into the garden where we’re setting up the table?” After hearing a confirmation from the two in the kitchen I turned the corner, watching as Kili and Fili lifted one of the spare tables up and moved towards the cellar entrance. I led them into the garden and directed them to where the tables should be placed. For the next half hour the dwarrow made a nice little dining space out in my garden. I strung up lights and set up a small fire pit not far from the tables, creating a warm space for my dwarrow.

The sound of knocking at my door and the loud ringing of the bell caused me to rush to the front entrance. It would not do to have impatient dwarrow sitting on my doorstep. Soon Ori, Nori and Dori, as well as Oin and Gloin had joined the festivities. Most of the sweets were completely decimated upon their arrival, but I had been prepared for that. It was the reason why I had recruited Dwalin’s help. Cooking and baking went much quicker when one had company.

Soon Bifur, Bofur, Bombur and Gandalf made their appearance, and their surprise and the spread that I had prepared was very satisfying. I knew that the presence of good food and plenty of alcohol would endear myself to my dwarrow just that little bit faster. The arrival of most of the company plus our wizard was a good distraction from the growing panic I felt. It was such a good feeling to be surrounded by all my oldest and dearest friends once again. It felt like I had come home.

Introductions were made, and many thanks were given out as the dwarrow made themselves at home. It made me glad to see them so cheerful and relaxed. My heart soared, and hope grew. This time would be different. It needed to be different, for the sake of my friends.

It was when the majority of the food had been cooked and I was making my way to the kitchen to begin bringing everything out that the knock came. That commanding, deafening knock that made my heart stop. I could feel the company turning in their seats to stare in the direction of the front entrance.

 

“He is here.” Gandalf’s voice was loud in the sudden silence, and with its loudness came a realisation. I had become frozen in place, my heart pounding loudly in my ears. I could feel myself begin to shake.

“I can’t do this."


	4. Of Panicked States, The Interruption Of Business And Blasted Rangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Bilbo wants to do is get the talk of the quest over and done with so that he can go and panic and break down in private, but there just seems to be an endless amount of interruptions. Surely dwarrow, wizards and rangers have better things to do then to postpone the plans of a panicked hobbit?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty much unedited, because I'm really tired and don't have the energy, but I'll fix it up soon.

I couldn’t move. He was here. He was finally here, and I was frozen, stuck in place. 

I was beginning to panic.

The reality of everything hadn’t really settled in until this moment. I guess I still believed that this was just some dream that I was having, that I was still on that ship headed towards the Grey Havens. That my friends and my love were still dead and far from my reach.

I started to shake as I felt the dwarrow behind me slowly rise and crowd around the back door and me. Oh, Valar, what was I supposed to do? How could I face him, knowing all that I do?

“That’ll be the door, laddie,” Dwalin said quietly, startling me out of my panicked state. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I could panic later, when there wasn’t twelve dwarrow and an Istari standing behind me, waiting for me to answer my door. I swallowed, nodding my head and moving towards the door.

Another knock echoed through my smial, causing me to walk a little faster. Thorin was grumpy at the best of times, but being made to wait? He despised that. And I knew that in my half frantic and panicked state I wouldn’t be able to deal with Thorin’s dark mood.

I opened the door, catching Thorin in the middle of raising his hand to knock again. He glared at me, obviously annoyed at being made to wait, but his glare didn’t intimidate me anymore. I had known him for too long, loved him for too long, to be scared by any look that Thorin wore, even when he was in his gold driven sickness.

“Good evening. I am Bilbo, son of Belladonna and Bungo, at your service,” I bowed low, keeping my eyes raised. I felt oddly calm now, considering my previous panic, but I could feel my heart racing at the sight of Thorin, of my lost love. I knew that I would need to hide soon, to conceal how close I was to breaking down. I did not want to deal with the concern and suspicion that it would get me.

“Evening, Master Hobbit. I am Thorin Oakenshield,” he glanced at the cloaks lining the hall, and the weapons sticking out of the chest and continued. “I see that the rest of the company is already in attendance.” I nodded, gesturing for Thorin to enter.

“Yes, they’re all gathered out in the garden. Please hang up your coat, wipe your feet and place your weapons in that chest, if you wish. There’s still plenty of food left, and there should be more than enough alcohol to satisfy you.” I closed the door and led the way to the garden, listening to the sound of Thorin’s heavy steps following behind me. When we could see out into the back garden I gestured for him to continue without me.

“I’m just grabbing myself a cup of tea before we all sit down and discuss this quest of yours. Please, make yourself at home and grab yourself some food.” Before I could see his reaction I quickly made my escape, unable to bear it any longer. I could feel myself crashing, and I did not need a company of dwarrow to see me break down. I made it to my room just before the tears started to fall. I leant against my door and slowly slid down it, sitting on the floor and curling into a ball. By the Valar he was actually here! My friends, my family, my love! They were alive and whole and well! And they were back in my life!

I could feel my breath shortening as the reality of everything began to settle in. I knew what was to come. I knew how and when each of them dies. I knew what would happen if I did not do what I could, everything I could, to keep them safe.

I calmed my breathing, running my fingers through my hair and vowing that I was going to save them all, and I was going to save my nephew from his fate at the hands of the One Ring and its Dark Lord. I was going to save the world. I couldn’t mess this up.

“Oh what was I thinking? How could I think that I would ever be able to do this? I’m just one hobbit!” I exclaimed, standing up and looking at myself in the mirror, frowning at my reflection. I was only one hobbit, but I was the only hobbit that could do this. I would not let the ring fall to my nephew, and I wouldn’t let my dwarrow die on the journey to reclaim their home, or in some dark and dreary place like the tomb Moria had become.

“Bilbo? Are you quite alright? You’ve been in there for quite some time and it’s getting to be rather concerning.” A knock at the door startled me out of my thoughts. It was Gandalf. Of course it was Gandalf. I wiped my face, splashing cold water from the basin below the mirror to hide the evidence of my panicked tears. My chest still ached from the lack of oxygen due to my short and panicked breaths, and I could feel a headache building, but I couldn’t let my fears make me hide. I could break down another time, but right now I needed to play the part of a confused hobbit being taken along for one exciting quest.

“Yes! I’m okay Gandalf. Thank you for the concern. I’ll be out in a moment!” I said, walking towards the door hastily before opening it and continuing. “I was just feeling a little lightheaded is all! No need to fuss.” And although Gandalf did not appear to quite believe me, he didn’t say anything to contradict me, thankfully.

I followed him back out into the garden, ignoring all of the dwarrow’s curious gazes. We had business to get down to.

“So, this is the hobbit.” Thorin began, standing so that he towered over me. I struggled to restrain from rolling my eyes. His intimidation tactics hadn’t worked in a very long time, and I knew that he was just trying to size me up, as well as humiliate me in retaliation for making him wait.

“Yes, I am the hobbit. I do so apologise for making you wait.” I spoke up, not giving him a reason as to why he had to wait. I knew that it would rile him up somewhat, and I couldn’t help myself. I crossed my arms and stared him down. He raised an eyebrow.

“I hope that you do not make us wait often if you join our quest. Tell me, Master Baggins, have you done much fighting?” He said, waiting for an answer. I stared at Thorin, wondering how much I should tell him. He continued on, acting as if I hadn’t understood the question. “What’s your weapon of choice, hm? To be quite honest you look more like a grocer than a burglar.” He scoffed, making me snort in response.

“Well yes, of course I look like a grocer. I’m a hobbit. Have you looked around? Have you seen the others of my kind? We all look like grocers. It’s just how we look,” I replied, making Gandalf chuckle. He knew that the looks of a hobbit can be deceiving, and he knew that I was not everything that I appeared to be. “Now, to answer your question, I haven’t done a lot of fighting. I fought in the Fell Winter when the white wolves crossed the river, and I have fought alongside the Rangers when they had need of an extra pair of hands and eyes.”

“Oh, really? I did not think Rangers were so desperate as to get help from halflings. And you still have not told me what weapons you have used to… ‘help’ the Rangers.” Thorin replied mockingly, causing my eyes to narrow. Had he been this insufferable, this rude, the first time around? It doesn’t matter. If Thorin wanted to act all high and mighty then I would pull his horse out from underneath him.

“Now you listen here, I have made you and your company guests in my home. I have fed you, let you have some of my finest and most expensive alcohol, and I will not let you treat me like this. I am a hobbit, and we appreciate good food, family, friends, and above all we appreciate manners. I don’t care who you are, whether you be a prince, one of the Valar or some urchin from the streets, if you do not respect me and my home then you can leave.” I hissed, my anger pouring from me. How dare he. I loved the idiot, but by the Valar, if he continued like this it wouldn’t be long before I laid him flat on his arse. If he respected a warrior more than I would bloody well show him a warrior.

I could see that he was shocked by my outburst, obviously not used to others telling him off and speaking their minds. They probably wouldn’t dare, considering he is the heir to Erebor. It was obvious that he was angry. He was tense, and he looked like he was reaching for some hidden blade to throw at my head, but it was obvious that he knew I was right. 

“My apologies, Master Baggins. You are quite right. I have not presented myself in the best light, and I have disgraced myself, and my company. I hope that you do not think that my actions represent the thoughts and feelings of the company.” Thorin bowed, shoulders stiff and taut as he watched for my reaction. I rolled my eyes this time.

“Oh do stand up. I know that you are likely tired and frustrated from your travels, so I will not hold your rudeness against you. Nor shall I take any more offense from it. Please go find yourself a seat. I believe that we have business to attend to.” I turned away from him, taking a seat myself. Had he always been so stubborn? So frustrating? I knew that the answer was yes, but right now it was exhausting me. I had prepared for everything, everything but the dwarrow themselves.

It looked as if Thorin was about to begin to spin his tail of lost homes and the wish to reclaim them when a sharp rap was heard from the front door. Bilbo frowned. Who would it be, at this time of the night? Thorin looked confused and annoyed at the interruption, and even Gandalf looked perplexed.

“Were you expecting anyone else, Gandalf? Master Baggins?” Thorin asked, leaning back in his chair while the rest of the dwarrow muttered among themselves.

“No, there was no one else that was to be arriving. Not to my knowledge at least. Bilbo, did you perhaps invite someone around for a spot of tea before bed?” I froze at Gandalf’s insinuation, glaring at his amused look.

“Whatever you may think of me, Gandalf, I am a respectable hobbit. If I was going to be doing that with anyone then I would not make them hide in the shadows and come over when no one would see them. I’m a Took and a Baggins, and we have more respect and courage than that,” I huffed, ignoring his chuckles and the dwarrow’s confused looks. I knew that they didn’t realise that Gandalf had insinuated that I had invited a lover over for the night, but I wasn’t about to explain it to them. Not now, at least. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to answer that bloody door.”

Another sharp knock echoed throughout my smial, making me scowl. There had been far too many interruptions tonight. I wanted to get this quest business talked about and settled before we all rested before heading off tomorrow.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have time for any visitors tonight so please-“ I ranted before stopping, startled. “Dorian? What in Yavanna’s green garden are you doing here? I thought you were on patrol tonight?” I was thoroughly confused. Dorian was one of few individuals who had an open invitation to come and have a spot of tea whenever he felt like it, but it was highly unusual for him to be turning up at this hour.

“Good evening my friend. I was on patrol, but I heard whisperings of some strange visitors coming to your home, and I just wanted to ensure that all was well with you,” Dorian had replied, looking around the door and into the entrance hall, his brow furrowing when he saw all of the cloaks and all of the weapons sitting on the wall and in the chest. “Bilbo, is everything all right?” he asked, concerned. I sighed. 

“Yes, Dorian, I assure you that I’m fine. I’m just talking with some visitors about a business proposition. You can leave now. You don’t have to watch over me like hawk.” I said, trying to shut the door. I knew that it was rude, but my social interaction quota had been met for the day, and I just needed to get this talk of the quest over and done with so I could sleep. Unfortunately for me I forgot how quick rangers could be, even when ducking into a hobbit hole. Dorian slipped past me and quickly made his way down the hall towards the garden. Before I could stop him he was out in the garden, staring at my guests. Blasted dwarrow. And blasted rangers.

“My my Bilbo! You seem to have a hoard of dwarrow in your garden!” He exclaimed before catching sight of Gandalf, who he offered a bow to. “As well as the famed Gandalf the Grey. What a merry gathering!”

“Yes, yes, a very merry gathering. Now if you would kindly leave, that would be brilliant!” I grouched, attempting to pull Dorian back towards the front door, but to no luck. He stayed where he was and stared down at me, amused.

“Come now, I want to hear this business proposition. And besides, it would be very un-hobbit-like of you to kick a guest from your home without even offering them tea.” Dorian teased, gently pulling his arm from my grasp. I glared at him, regretting the time I spent teaching him hobbit customs.

“Fine!” I threw my hands up in the air, done with trying to make this go the way I want it to. I had planned this meeting out fully, but of course nothing would go to plan. Nothing ever went to plan when it involved Thorin and his company. Speaking of, this whole time Thorin, the dwarrow and Gandalf had been watching my exchange with Dorian with extreme amusement and a small amount of confusion. “Everyone, this is Dorian, one of the rangers that I help out. He grew concerned when he found out that I was having a number of ‘strange visitors’ enter my home, and so decided to take it upon himself to investigate, and then invite himself into my home. He likely will want to be present to discuss the quest, but I can make him leave if his presence will be a problem.”

The dwarrow all chuckled, some even outright laughing at my frustrated face and Dorian’s smug one. Even Thorin looked amused.

“He may stay, if he wishes to. But we will not include him in the quest, as fourteen members of the company will be more than enough,” Thorin replied, with Gandalf nodding in agreement. While it would be useful to have a ranger accompany them, it would not do to draw too much attention to themselves and their quest. “Now the ranger mentioned something about tea. Would it be too much to ask if you could bring us all some while we discuss the details of what is to transpire?” I sighed, because of course everyone wanted tea now.

I played the dutiful host. I made sure to write down everyone’s tea preferences before I skittered away to putter around in the kitchen. I put the largest kettle I could find on the stove and waited for it to boil. I gathered all the teas, some being in bags while some were loose-leaf and needed to be placed in strainers, just waiting for the water. I put it all on a large tray, hoping that I would be able to balance it all without needing to ask for help. Outside I could hear the murmurings of conversation, and my ears itched to eavesdrop. But I am not I fauntling, I sternly reminded myself, and I refused to give into the urge to listen in on a conversation that I was not a part of.

Soon the kettle had boiled, and the teas were all ready. I slowly brought them all out, handing them to their respective guest. When I had emerged the conversation had stopped, but I was unsure if that was just because the tea had arrived, or because they were just talking about me. Dwalin’s voice interrupted my thoughts.

“Your ranger friend was just tellin’ us some interestin’ tales laddie.” Dwalin told me as he grabbed his tea, causing me to turn and stare at Dorian, my eyes narrowed.

“And just what tales have you been telling them, Dorian? Perhaps the one where you got caught in one of farmer Maggots traps and I had rescue you? Or the one where the wolves had you cornered while you were without your weapons and I had to save you? Any of those?” I questioned, watching him laugh. I had a feeling what tales he had been telling, and what had inspired him to tell them. I had been a good pupil while he taught me what he could, and I know that he would not take kindly to Thorin doubting my abilities as a warrior just because of the way I looked.

“Oh no, I was telling the tale of how you killed three fully grown wolves on your own with only a slingshot and a few sharp rocks. And of the time when you helped to bring down that stray orc that was wandering around down near the old forest. The dwarrow seemed quite impressed.” I smiled at him thankfully, my smile turning into a grin when he winked at me. Dorian always had my back, no matter what.

“Yes, the tales were quite impressive. But it makes me ask again, what kind of weapon do you use? It would be good to know, in case we get into a fight while on the road.” Thorin asked, looking at me pointedly. I raised an eyebrow at him, putting the tray on the table now that it was empty. If hadn’t of been so rude the first time asking me he wouldn’t have needed to ask me a second time.

“I can use just about anything. Bow, sword, throwing knives, normal knives. I can also use a hammer if need be, but it’s not something that I use often. Dorian trained me well. He was quite thorough about it all.” I stated, taking a seat and sipping on my own tea, ignoring Gandalfs disapproving gaze.

“And why, Bilbo, did you ask Dorian to train you in the first place? Hobbits are not made for fighting, and there is no need to learn such things in the Shire,” I stared at Gandalf, wondering why he was so against a hobbit learning to fight. Surely he could see that it would be a boon to the company? “The Fell Winter, Gandalf.” Was my only answer. The wizard looked abashed, nodding his head apologetically.

“Now, if we have finished swapping tales, should we not get down to business?” I was sick of just sitting around talking. I missed my friends, but sooner or later I was going to break down, and I would rather do that in the safety of my own room than in front of my guests.

“Yes, you’re quite right Master Baggins. Let us begin,” Throin pulled out the map that Gandalf had given him. The first time around I had witnessed Gandalf giving the map to Thorin, but obviously that had happened when I was otherwise preoccupied this time. “Our quest is to reclaim our home, to take back Erebor from the evil that is the desolation of Smaug.”


End file.
